‘Just through there,’ he said pointing to a wooden sliding door on the left-hand side of the room. ‘It’s tiny, I warn you. This place must have been built when we were still a nation of midgets.’

Tilly slid the door back revealing what was essentially a cupboard with a toilet and miniature basin inside. She had to sit down on the bowl before she was able to close the door again. On her left were the tiny basin and a small mirror and on her right were two coat hooks, one of which was occupied. Sitting on the loo she looked up at the coat hanging there. It was a dark grey duffle coat with a hood. For a moment, while she looked at it, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. It looked like any man’s coat but when she realised it was familiar the horror sank in. Tilly had seen the news. She’d seen the E-fit of the suspect and the picture of the coat the suspect was wearing. She knew then that she was looking at that exact coat.

Suddenly unable to pee, Tilly froze and claustrophobia set in. She was trapped with no way out except to go back through the kitchen. For a few moments she remained there, trying to prevent a panic attack, trying to work out how she could get away and trying to process how she’d ended up there.

Eventually, after three more minutes, she stood up, buttoned up her jeans and with a shaking hand pushed the sliding door back.

‘Everything okay?’ Steven asked over his shoulder holding a large kitchen knife in his right hand.

‘I… erm… I…’ She could feel the panic rising in her throat. ‘I don’t feel very well.’ Tilly walked around the edge of the room putting as much distance between herself and him as possible. Steven was blocking her escape route.

‘What’s the matter?’ He turned slowly, still grasping the knife. ‘You look very pale.’ He recognised the fear in her eyes. He’d seen that same look on the face of Dennis, Wendy and Eddie just before he’d killed them.

Unable to speak Tilly looked over at the loo and, in that moment, Steven knew she’d recognised the coat. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless.

‘Sit down, Tilly.’ He sighed pointing at one of the bistro chairs with the sharp end of the knife. ‘You and I need to have a little talk.’

‘I don’t feel well.’ She stuttered, ‘I-I-I think I need to g-go home.’

‘We’ve opened the wine now. At least finish your glass.’ He took a step towards her. ‘It would be bad manners to leave now.’